24 Hours of Terror
by The First Adventuress
Summary: Ex-soldier Cristina Myers loves her job at Jurassic World. She's a perfect fit for the Asset Containment Unit, and doesn't mind being the only female member. But the other troopers are massacred during the ill-fated attempt to subdue the Indominus Rex, and Cris and fellow survivor Ray Austin must fight for survival in the chaos, and somehow reach the docks. Before it's too late.
1. Build Them Higher

**Here is the first chapter of the reworked version of 24 Hours of Terror. If you haven't ever read this story before, you have nothing to worry about, if you have, please try to reconcile it with this new version. Trust me, it's going to be better.**

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 ** _24 Hours of Terror-Chapter One-Build Them Higher_**

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The park's new hybrid dinosaur is becoming something of a nuisance. ACU has been called out to her paddock once already. She ate her sibling and had to be tranquilized so they could remove the body. I wasn't there personally but apparently she's one devil of a dinosaur.

Now they want us to go inspect the cage. Is it too short? To thin-walled? Not enough cameras? The glass thick enough? The gate sturdy? Feeding system safe? They're all questions we've answered before, but I guess management wants them answered again.

Apparently it's bigger than expected.

Personally I think making a genetically modified— I believe 'hybrid' was the word used— dinosaur is not a good idea. How can they possibly know what to expect?

However, it's not my job to make a safe dinosaur, just to make sure the cage is stronger than its inmate. The security at this place is amazing, but that doesn't stop it from having its issues.

I think they underestimate the animals. Everyone's so worried about the carnivores they forget the herbivores and don't give them their fair share of time. There has never been a carnivore containment incident at Jurassic World, but some of the herbivores, the pachys in particular, are escape artists. They don't actually get out with the visitors, there's a thirty foot perimeter fence charged with electricity to make sure that doesn't happen, but the way the herbivore paddocks work is quite a headache.

All the animals are implanted with tracking devices when they hatch, which deliver an electric shock if they try to go somewhere they're not supposed to, kind of like an invisible fence. For the carnivores this is just a security measure, but for the herbivores it's how they keep some of the less compatible species apart. Basically, the herbivores are free range, just with shock collars to make sure they don't range too much.

The pachycephalosaurs don't get along with anyone, so they have their own range. They're pugnacious little fellows though, and when they quite literally butt heads their tracking implants sometimes short out, allowing them to leave their zone and get in with some of the other species. This generally happens several times a month and is a real hassle.

Jurassic World likes to look pretty and in control, giving the illusion of free range herbivores and happy, well-fed carnivores. They occasionally go for beauty over functionality, and it's this tendency that has me worried about the hybrid. But that's what the Asset Containment Unit is for, making sure their illusion doesn't erupt into chaos.

And now we're off to the paddock. It's hot out, and since this isn't an escaped asset that has the team assembled we're not in full uniform, just gray-blue t-shirts, cargo pants and our hats. My team leader Katashi Hamada drives the Sprinter the team uses, and Stan "Shotgun" Miller rides shotgun while I sit in the back with Mike Lee. We call him shotgun cause that's where he always sits, plus it's his weapon of choice.

Each ACU team has one leader and three troopers. There are four other teams, all of which I've worked with before, but I don't know any of the members well except for Ray Austin. He and I both are friends with Owen Grady, the raptor trainer. We're fishing buddies at his lake.

I saw Owen working with the raptors once and I'll never forget it. That's what I like about working at Jurassic World, seeing the animals as animals and not monsters _or_ cutesy kids' attractions. They are beautiful and fierce, and the raptors are the most beautiful and fierce of all. Owen doesn't treat them like assets, he treats them kind of like dogs. It's pretty funny to see the way they interact. Of course, Owen can't go in with them since they're a little more lethal than a dog, but when he gets there in the morning you can practically see their tails wagging.

I was kind of miffed when they pulled me away from my normal job of security at the raptor paddock to help inspect the Indominus' cage today. I'm one of the more veteran ACU members, and have worked mostly with carnivores so I can see why they want me, but this morning promised to be an excellent training session, and I missed it!

"Cris, you've been awfully quiet."Lee says, his elbow hitting me in the ribs.

I jump. "Just thinking," I say.

"About what, how much they must have been feeding that dinosaur to need to worry about cage security?"

"No, though I suppose I should," I laugh.

The sprinter hits a bump, and breaks my train of thought. I exchange pointless banter and conversation with Mike until we pull around a curve in the road and up in front of the paddock. A huge crane stands to the side of the paddock, the derrick swinging idly in the light breeze. A team of construction workers sits under the shade of the palms on the edge of the jungle, their laughter detectable from across the paddock. They must be on break.

Claire Dearing the park manager and paddock superintendent Nick Edelstein stand in front of the door. Mike, being the _chivalrous_ fellow he is opens the door for me…with a mocking "after you, m'lady".

I punch him in the arm.

"Spitfire," he whispers.

I hiss.

"Literally," he adds, raising his eyebrows.

I roll my eyes. Then we switch over to professional mode, falling into a rough line behind Hamada and Shotgun, stopping when our commander stops and shakes hands with Ms. Dearing.

"I'll get right to the point," she says. "The hybrid's security has been…more complicated than we guessed. It's attacked the handlers and seems…quite intelligent. Also, it's bigger than expected. We want your opinion on the security."

We are all nodding as she finishes the sentence, then wheels about, her white skirt swirling slightly as she turns. How she prances around in the four inch stilettos she's wearing right now, I don't know.

I wobble even if I try to wear two inch platforms.

She leads the way up the stairs and punches in a security code beside the door. It opens and we walk through into what must be the viewing area.

A heavy, OK, fat, man sits on the other side of the room, looking up from a soda and what I can only assume is a video game as we step into the room.

"Where's the dinosaur?" Mike asks.

"We had you come just before feeding time so that you could see her in action. Mr. Edelstein will tempt her now." She looks over at him but he pays no attention, fingers moving quickly over the face of the iPad as he plays whatever he's playing, thoroughly engrossed.

"Mr. Edelstein." Ms. Dearing says, louder and more sharply.

"Huh—what—" he sits up abruptly, startled.

"I said will you please feed the Rex, so we can see her."

"Oh, yeah," he heaves himself up and walks over to the control panel, punching in several commands.

Then I hear a mechanical hum and turn, looking out into the paddock. The arm of the crane I saw earlier swings over the wall, half a raw steer hanging limply from it. It's good and bloody. I've seen the raptors feed; there's no way a carnivore could resist that.

A few seconds later that hypothesis is validated as the bushes begin to rustle. I catch a glimpse of wicked spikes and ghostly white scales through the foliage, and a faint vibration of heavy footfalls hums through the floor. I swallow.

"It's white," Mike says, his voice disbelieving.

"It's…ghastly," I answer, "but then I think that's kind of what they're going for."

He nods agreement, and we both look back into the foliage. Suddenly there is a flurry of motion and the next thing I know she's out in the center of the clearing, jaws tearing the steer from the meathook and thrashing it from side to side before lifting her head and crunching down, gulping meat and bone the way a chicken eats a grasshopper.

"Can it see us?" Mike asks warily.

"It can sense thermal radiation, like a snake," Claire answers.

"Holy moly," I breathe. As if on cue, the dinosaur rounds and looks at the window, its eyes staring through the glass with frightening intelligence. Through the vent that allows viewers to hear the animal's vocalizations comes a low rumbling growl, almost a feral purr. A drop of blood rolls from between two of it's jagged teeth. It's eyes are _orange,_ I realize.

Its muscles tense and it lunges at the glass, mouth opening in a roar and wicked talons clashing against sheer barrier. To my horror it cracks, not breaking fully but thin spiderwebs spreading from the points of impact where the deadly claws struck. I stumble back a few steps.

A few more times it slams against the glass and the floor shakes, but the barrier holds and the dinosaur backs off, seemingly realizing the futility of its efforts. Giving one last roar, this one with an irritable note of frustration, the monster stalks off into the bushes.

"Build them higher," Hamada says.

"What?" Claire turns to him. Her eyes are slightly wide. I wonder if this is the first time she's seen what her 'attraction' can do.

"The walls," Hamada clarifies, "build them higher. If that thing gets out…"

He doesn't finish the sentence, but the picture the words paint is clear.

Claire huffs out irritably. "If you really feel that's necessary," she emphasizes the 'necessary', "I'll have construction build them higher. It will mean delaying the attraction's Grand Opening until June instead of May as planned, but—"

"Do it." Hamada cuts off. "This park cannot afford to take chances."

"Alright," she says, pursing her lips like a mom conceding to a child that keeps insisting there's a monster under the bed. "Thank you, Mr. Hamada. I'd love to stay and chat, but I have a meeting at"— she consults her watch—"actually I should have left two minutes ago. Thank you."

She turns and leaves the room. I linger another few seconds, hoping the park hasn't made a terrible mistake. Not that I could—or can do—anything to stop them.


	2. Raptor Squad

**Without further adieu, chapter 2! Say, that rhymes! I deserve a review for that!**

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 ** _24 Hours of Terror-Chapter Two-Raptor Squad_**

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When we get back to the main park I think everyone is still a little shaken, but since my shift is over for the day I decide I might as well go and do something. There's no point in just sitting around when I could be…be what? Then it comes to me. Ray and I haven't been over to the lake in a while, and Owen said we were welcome whenever soooo…yep, that's what I'll do. I can ask him how the training session went. That will almost make up for the fact that I missed it.

I change out of my uniform in the bathroom, putting on khaki shorts, a comfortable yellow tank top, and slapping a white baseball cap onto my head. Ray is coming into the room just as I'm leaving so I ask then. "Want to go fishing?"

"Sure," he says, "I need to change and grab my pole though."

"Okay, great," I say. "I'll meet you there at—" I glance at my watch "14:30."

"Sounds good," he says.

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I emerge from the jungle road out into the open, my feet tingling slightly from the effort of the hike. It's several miles from the Visitor Center to Owen's bungalow.

My face is damp with sweat, making the few strands of hair that have escaped my thick braid stick limply against my neck. Panting, I push my hand across my forehead, looking out over the lake. A slight breeze ruffles the surface, lowering the tropical heat a few degrees. I see Owen sitting on his dock, holding his fishing pole in one hand and a beer in the other. I'm about to call a greeting when a mischievous thought tickles my mind.

I smile and lay my fishing pole quietly on the ground, among the grasses where he can't see it. Then I sink down beside it, army-crawling slowly forward on my elbows. Once I'm close, I pause and raise my head, doing my best imitation of the nasal chirps the raptors give.

He starts, beer sloshing over his hand, and looks around.

I put a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, then make the noise again.

This time he frowns. "Whoever you are, please stop that noise. You don't sound like a dinosaur."

 _Darn it,_ I think. _I need more practice!_ Reluctantly, I rise from the grass. "You caught me," I say. "What'd I do wrong?"

"You hissed too much," he responds. "They chirp. Besides, with you and your friends on the job, how would the raptors get out in the first place?"

I snort. "You're too kind."

He gives a mocking bow and that devilish Grady smile. "I know."

I roll my eyes and change the subject. "Any luck so far?"

"Nope," he says. "Nothing. Not even a tico. There really aught to be a ridiculous number of fish here, considering we're the only ones that fish the lake."

The conversation on fish populations is interrupted by Ray's cheerful voice.

"Hey Owen!" he calls. "Any luck?"

I leave them to their conversation as I walk over to the edge of the woods and retrieve my fishing pole, threading the line into position. Pulling the bag of bait from my pocket, I stick a crayfish hatchling over the hook.

When I return to the lake edge I see that Ray and Owen have already settled down on the dock, their lines trailing in the water. I sit down beside them, slipping off my shoes and dangling my feet into the water before drawing my arm back and smoothly casting out over the lake. Little wavelets lap against the shore and the smell of tropical flowers hangs in the humid air. The sun is hot on my face and the metal of my pole cool against my palms.

It's so peaceful, under that blue Costa Rica sky.

"So," I ask. "How did training go this morning?"

Owen's face appears to pale a shade and I narrow my eyes, confused. "Did something happen?" I ask, anxious now.

"No," Owen says tightly. "But something almost did. And the way things are going, something will."

" _What_ happened?"

"We'd just finished with the routine, and the girls were perfect and I mean perfect. Not a snap, not a screech, just focus. I'd just fed Blue her rat and was talking to someone when a pig got loose. The new guy, you know, the skinny one we hired last week?"

I nod and he continues.

"Well, he tried to grab the pig with a catch pole, and he had the little squealer caught when the raptors caught up with it. They grabbed the pig and pulled him in."

My eyes widen. How is it possible that the guy survived? After all, Owen did say nothing actually happened.

"There wasn't anything else to do and I didn't think I just acted. I went in with the girls and told them to stand down. Blue listened, but the others weren't going to, thankfully we had just enough time to get the guy out the gate and I dove underneath it before the girls could pull anything." He smiles wryly. "My hair's not gray, is it?"

"No," I say, not thinking so much about Owen's joke as I am the fact that two people almost died. "That was really brave."

He laughs. "Wouldn't have been worth it if my hair turned gray though. I thought I'd look in the mirror and see my grandfather."

Then Ray speaks up. "You said nothing happened today but you said something will. Why's that?"

"Hoskins." Owen says. "Hoskins was there."

I frown. "What does he have to do with it?"

Vic Hoskins is the head of InGen security and just about the most aggravating person in the world. I don't see what he has to do with the raptors though. He's a blowhard, but that alone shouldn't be enough to cause a problem. I've seen Owen deal with blowhards before. He tells 'em to stand down. They listen too.

"He want's to weaponize the raptors for special forces work."

"He wants to _what?_ " Ray and I ask simultaneously.

"Wait, special forces like U.S. Military special forces?" I say.

"Yes," Owen answers tiredly. "He's convinced that they're intelligent enough to be like attack dogs. He thinks they'd be excellent for stealth missions and tunnel rat work, things like that. I told him that he was an idiot. Attack dogs don't eat you if you forget to feed them."

I lean back.

"The guy can't be serious," Ray says. "There's just no way anyone could think that with the history these animals have had they can be controlled. There's just no way."

"You said yourself how he could think it, Ray." Owen says. "You said 'with the history these animals have', but that's the thing. Hoskins doesn't see them as animals, he sees them as assets. To be used."

We lapse into silence, thinking about the implications of those words. All three of us have served in the Army, or in Owen's case the Marines, and the implications of what could happen with rogue raptors in a combat zone are horrendous. There is no way those animals would be controlled.

This confirmation of my thoughts earlier today at the paddock leaves me even more unsettled when it comes to the Indominus Rex. What is InGen getting itself into?

This was supposed to be a theme park, not an attempt to milk money from extinct animals.

When you lose respect for nature, things tend to go downhill.

Fast.

As in blindingly, horrifyingly fast.


	3. Asset Out

**Here is Chapter 3. I know it's been ages, but I had writers block and various busy-ness. I have by no means abandoned the story, and my next chapter is already nearly finished. I hope you all enjoy!**

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 ** _24 Hours of Terror-Chapter 3-Asset Out_**

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Two days later, the worry I felt for park security has mostly died. Construction is building the walls higher, and I think not even the death ghost monster InGen built can find a way over once they're complete. Then again, the old disasters came from underestimation.

I shake my head, telling myself to stop worrying. Everything is going smoothly. There hasn't been a single dangerous incident at Jurassic World. Ever.

And then, suddenly, there is.

I'm standing in the sitting room of our workspace, watching on the monitors as one of the other teams moves a tranquilized dinosaur back to its enclosure. Pachy's again; the boneheads. I wish they would just settle down.

It's a beautiful day, and the lack of activity chafes me slightly. I want to be out in the sun, no matter how hot and sweaty working out there right now would be. Noonday on Isla Nublar is quite, well, warm, I reflect, taking of my cap and pushing a few damp strands of hair back from my face.

And then the alarm on the console starts to beep. Captain Hamada, the team leader, picks up the alerts phone. Even from across the room, I can hear the frantic voice on the other end, though I can't make out words. What's happened?

A feeling of dread clenches at my stomach, though what I'm afraid of I'm not sure. Maybe it's the look on Hamada's face as he tells whoever's on the other end of the line that he'll get two teams on it right away.

I zone out of every other noise in the room as the air tingles with apprehension. You don't look like you're headed for a war zone when it's the pachys that got out. Is it the Rex? The raptors? It couldn't be the…

"Which one?" I ask. My voice is low and tight; I'm almost afraid to hear the answer.

He doesn't respond, but walks over to one of the radio sets the teams use for communicating and puts out a full alert, which does nothing to calm me.

"ACU on alert, all teams get to command now. This is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill."

Following the instructions, I force myself to sit down and wait calmly for the other teams to arrive. Within a half-minute people begin trickling in, and soon the only teams missing are the ones dealing with the pachys.

I stand up as Captain Hamada gets up in front of the assembled teams, looking serious as he surveys the group. We are a sea of concerned faces and curious whispers, and as soon as the captain stands up every eye is on him.

"We have an asset out of containment," he begins. "It's the Indominus. I don't think I need to tell you that the animal cannot be allowed to make contact with any visitors. I want teams A and H ready in ten minutes and at the cars. This is a non-lethal operation. Understood?"

The members of the selected teams chorus their assent, and Hamada dismisses us to get ready. He's the commander for team H, and Ray leads team A. I'll be glad to head into this less-than-ideal situation with people I know and trust.

We've drilled for these kinds of scenarios before, and I know exactly what I'm supposed to bring. I push my cap down more securely on my head, and swipe my ID card through one of the lockers containing our gear. I clip a smart watch onto my wrist and pull on my vest, then unlatch the rack holding taser sticks and pull one down. I twirl it in my hand, the nonchalant action reminding me that our teams know what we're doing. The Indominus may be smart, but she's just an animal. We've trained for this.

Feeling much more businesslike I head for the cars, falling in behind Shotgun. He's armed with his namesake weapon, and for a moment that gives me pause. Weren't we supposed to be using non-lethals? I trust his judgement though, and climb into the back of the vehicle with Mike Lee, flicking on the tracker on my watch.

We're a good six miles from the Indominus' location, and as the rest of the teams arrive and pile into the two cars, I silently beg Hamada to hurry. Shotgun is driving today, and Hamada climbs into the passenger seat, turning on his radio so that he can communicate with the other car.

I lurch slightly as we pull out, and Hamada begins to speak into his set. "The Indominus Rex is without a doubt the most dangerous dinosaur on this island. Because of the short amount of time our handlers have had to study her, we don't know much except that she is equipped with oversized claws and jaws like a T. rex. We also know that she is capable of masking her thermal signature, something we didn't know today that has played a part in her escape and the deaths of two people."

Lee and I exchange nervous glances. Masking thermal signature? It's a pretty implausible skill for a dinosaur, but I'm more focused on the news that two people have already died. I had some misgivings when I first came to the park, mostly because of some news stories, all of which occurred more than ten years ago, but that now spring to my mind.

The original incident when the first attempt at a dinosaur park failed due to sabotage and resulted in several dead, a little girl attacked during a landing on one of the jurassic islands by an unsuspecting family on a pleasure cruise, a research team wiped out, a young boy stranded and rescued at the cost of several lives…it is a frightening list, but one that everyone, including I have ignored, just assuming that "we'll get it right next time". I don't have any control over it anyway, I'm just here to clean up the mess—or possibly _be_ the mess, I can't help thinking— if something goes wrong.

The thought of what such an incident could become with the Park operational and full of tourists…I push the disturbing thought and corresponding images away. They didn't have an ACU at the old park, besides, that first one was sabotaged by an employee, it didn't just break down.

I shove my worries away and go into what I call 'mission mode' as Hamada continues:

"However, she, like the other assets, is implanted with a tracking device. Your smart watches are synced to it and we will use them to trace her movements. Our directors have been very explicit that the I. Rex is _not_ to be injured in any way that will kill it, or make it a less appealing attraction. This is why you are armed with tasers and tranquilizer rifles. Captain Austin will carry a net gun. Does anyone have any questions? Over."

Ray's voice crackles back through the speakers from the car behind us. "Roger that."

I flick the switch on my vest that activates my tracker. It also sends readings of my vital signs to the people in the Control Room. This piece of technology lends gravity to the situation, reminding us that we are going up against a prehistoric hybrid with nonlethals, and that dying _is_ a possibility, for all our precautions. But I knew that when I signed up for this job, and now that it comes to a real situation I am focused and unafraid.

Lee's tranquilizer rifle pokes me in the jaw. "Point that thing somewhere else," I say in a jokingly irritable tone, "it might go off."

Lee chuckles, but pulls his gun into a different position. He feigns surprise as he looks at it. "Whaddya know, the safety's off," he kids.

I laugh, then am jerked backward slightly as the trucks accelerate forward onto the main road and to the jungle. I adjust my cap, then turn my attention to the smart watch. A small green beacon shows our position, and a red one shows the Rex.

We're getting closer, and there is tension in the air. The I. Rex dot is moving quickly, then it suddenly stops. Perhaps it made kill.

We continue at high speed through the Gallimimus valley. Looking up, I see the silver gleam of the monorail track high above our heads.

Then the maintenance road we are following twists back into the woods. The little dots are touching each other now on the tiny screen, showing by their positions that the Indominus is to our left, perhaps a half mile into the dense jungle.

We climb out, and I click the safety off my taser. There are other clicks as the rest of the teams switch their weapons on. We are all tense and silent.

The late-morning air is beginning to heat up, and combined with the tension makes me sweat. I glance at Ray and then Lee, and see that their foreheads are also slick and damp.

Hamada motions for Miller to get behind him, then Ray and I. I don't pay attention to where he puts the others. He waves his hand forward, using visual commands rather than vocal. This simple gesture seems to click something in my brain, switching me into soldier mode as my breathing steadies and I relax slightly, still tense but moving smoothly as we step into the jungle.

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